Fragile
by starry-oblivion
Summary: Leonardo hates feeling weak. When he begins to experience feelings for a woman and confides in his brother, he needs to learn to accept that he can't always be in control of his situations. Sometimes, you just have to allow yourself to be a bit fragile.


I walk with the knowledge that my path is true.

My family depends on me for guidance. I can't ever let them down, I can't ever err, lest my mistake cost me more than I can bear to lose. I know that all of them—even Raphael, as begrudging as he is—listen to my advice and hold it close to their hearts. I can't allow myself to give them a single piece of counsel that could be the slightest bit equivocal.

So why is it that I can't trust my own heart to do the same?

I met her ages ago, and I can still remember the timidity that radiated from her. It was as though she was trying to will away anyone who dared to come too close, be it physically or emotionally. I didn't blame her; I've been conditioned to relay the same silent message to most of the people I come across. It just feels so much… _safer_ that way, I suppose.

But I couldn't leave her alone. She needed me. I soon found that I understood her in a way that her human peers didn't… in a way that they _couldn't_. She thought it was odd at first, but I found that she gradually began to accept my presence in her life. I can't even begin to wonder how many times I've inadvertently prevented her from doing something terrible just by my being there with her.

Donatello began noticing that my meditation periods slowly became longer, and I was home less often. I fully expected him to be the first of my brothers to say anything, so I wasn't surprised when he asked me if there was something going on that he should know about. For the first time in my life, I found myself stumbling over words. Forcing back the heat that threatened to rise to my cheeks in an embarrassed blush, I told him that I've met someone.

He asked me what I meant. My only elaboration was that it was a girl. Given my reluctance to say anything else, Donatello caught on far more quickly than even _I_ had. "Oh," was all he said for a moment. "Now… when you say, 'met someone'… and that this someone is a girl… what _exactly_ do you mean?"

I looked away from him, replying that I didn't know. "Is that bad?" I asked. "Not knowing, I mean. Because I know it means _some_thing… but…." I allowed myself to groan and put my head in my hands. "I don't know, Don. I just… she's a good person. And she…." My voice trailed off as I stared off into space. "I'm at a loss."

Admitting that was probably the single most difficult thing I've ever done. I always had a plan. I always kept to a strategy. Romantic feelings never really figured into my tactics. It was always just me, my brothers, and our father. Eventually, it came to be about April, then Casey. Ultimately, I found that we were opening ourselves up to more and more people, and I've accepted that. I could handle the responsibility of protecting and caring for all of these people. I just never thought that I'd actually feel… _that_ way about one of the people I've come to care for.

"Leo," Donatello said quietly as he put a hand on my shoulder. "That's okay. I know that you probably think I'm a terrible brother for saying that, but it really _is_ okay to just be at a complete loss sometimes." I told him that it wasn't, but he spoke right over me. He'd never done that before. "It _is_, Leo. I know I've never mentioned it, but… _I've_ felt that way, too. There was a girl once, not too long ago." I looked at him, surprised. I had never doubted that my brothers had such feelings, yet it was still a little unexpected. Especially coming from someone as devoted to technology as Donatello.

"Yeah, I figured it's something of a revelation," Donatello went on, seeing my reaction. "It's in the past now, so it's not really worth bringing up. The point is, I couldn't get through it with just my reasoning. There's no equation that can properly predict the outcome of emotions, human or turtle. As much as I didn't want to, I realized that the only thing I could do was improvise." He looked down, and I could see the traces of a bittersweet smile. "I can't deny that I was something of a mess while it was all going on, but I think I came out stronger for it. A lot stronger."

Judging by his voice and mannerisms, I gathered that Donatello's efforts didn't culminate in a relationship. I'm sure that, if it had, he would have told at least _one_ of us. Trying not to be too put off by the fact that this is one of the rare occasions in which I ask my brothers for advice rather than offer my own, I asked him, "But how can something that makes you feel so weak make you stronger?"

Donatello blinked up at me, apparently stunned. "Leo," he breathed, "I'd never thought _you'd_ actually ask something like that. Don't you know? Like the saying goes, whatever doesn't kill us will only make us stronger." He smiled at me again as he added, "Besides… how can you really know what strength feels like if you don't know what it's like to be fragile?"

We simply stared at one another for a long while. My brother and I, sharing a moment that I had always known would come at some point, though I had expected our roles to be reversed. I felt guilty, wondering what sort of "fearless leader" I was, if I couldn't even take the lead in a conversation about romance. It slowly dawned on me that all leaders needed to follow at some point in their lives. All counselors received guidance from someone else. It didn't do wonders for my pride, but it did make me feel less embarrassed by the situation.

"Thanks Don," I tell him quietly. "That actually really helps. " We remained quiet again for a while before Donatello started asking me some basic questions, such as her name and where I met her. I gave him very few details, and he knew enough to be able to figure out that I don't want to give away too much, in case this should prove to be nothing but a lot of silly nonsense later on down the line.

"One last question, Leo," he said. I allow him to ask it, and he gives me a somewhat bemused look. "If she's so fantastic, what the heck are you doing _here_?" I gape at him for a moment before realizing what he's getting at.

With a laugh, I decided to go pay her a visit.

* * *

I sat on the tree bough just outside her bedroom window, watching her.

She was lying on her bed with her back to me, the dim lamp on her nightstand casting a soft glow over her. I could tell from the rhythm of her breathing that she was awake, but I couldn't bring myself to disturb her. Even though I could only see her back, I felt like there was something wrong. She wasn't feeling well. Can it be possible to intuit such a thing once you start feeling… _that_ way about a person?

After a few moments, I took a deep breath and reached over, gently rapping my knuckles against her window. She started, but calmed considerably when she turned and saw me. I tried to ignore how nice it was to see her smile broadly as she got up and opened the window. Despite her happiness, it was clear that she was stressed and fatigued. "Hi," I said somewhat awkwardly. "It's not a bad time, is it?"

Her mouth hung open for a moment, as it normally did when I've assessed more than she would have thought possible. Finally, she smiled again as she told me, "It's always a good time for you, Leonardo. Come on in." I slipped into her warm bedroom as she explained, "I've just been having a bad time at work. Every reason I have to hate working retail has decided to manifest itself this week."

"I'm sorry," I replied. "But hey, it's Friday. That's some good news, isn't it?"

She tilted her head at me before quietly saying, "Actually, I work Saturdays now."

"Oh," I muttered. "I… sorry."

"It's not your fault," she stated as she closed the window and walked back to her bed. "I'm pretty used to it by now. I'm just a little upset because, for reasons that I _really_ don't want to get into, I'm working a double shift tomorrow, so I won't be out until about eleven o'clock. And by then I'll be exhausted, so I can just imagine the fun I'll have sitting in the bus for an hour on my way home. That is, if I don't fall asleep, miss my stop, and end up getting lost and having a slight panic attack before being mugged."

I couldn't help but laugh at the way she said that last sentence, as though she didn't put it past herself to have just that sort of horrendous luck. "If it'll make you feel any better," I slowly bring up, "I can meet you after work. See if I can't find some way to bring you home safely."

She sat down and looked up at me. "I can't ask you to do that, Leo. It'll be late, and it's so far away-" I interrupted her by telling her that she didn't have to _ask_ me. I consider it my responsibility to make sure that nothing happens to anyone that I consider a friend. She remained quiet for a moment before telling me, "You know, most people who consider me a friend don't just stand around my room as though they don't have permission to make themselves comfortable. You _can_ relax, Mr. Responsible."

I looked down, realizing that she was beginning to get pretty good at assessing things herself. "Sorry," I told her, moving to sit on the futon across from her bed. "I just had a conversation with my brother that… I just wasn't expecting. I mean, I _was_, but at the same time… I wasn't. You know?"

Though I wasn't looking at her, I could feel her eyes on me as the silence crept into the room. Hearing her bed creak, I looked up to see that she had gotten to her feet and was walking towards the futon. "Leo… life isn't scripted. You have to realize that no matter how much you like to be in control, you can't really predict who's going to say or do what, and when it's going to happen."

"I know," I started, but stopped when she sat besides me and put a hand on my arm.

"What do you know? Did you know what I was going to say? Did you know that I was going to get up and move over here? Did you know that I'd fit into some predetermined mold of what a friend should say and do, and that that'll make you feel better?"

"No," I quickly answered, looking her in the eye. Before I could stop myself, I told her, "I came here because I knew that I _wouldn't_ know what to expect. Because you're the only person that I feel comfortable with that I haven't quite figured out. And… and I _want_ to figure you out. I want to know you better. A lot better."

I could feel the heat rising to my face again, but tried to will it away. Judging by the mildly perplexed look on her face, I probably didn't succeed in keeping the blush away entirely. She stayed quiet for a long time, and so I weakly added, "At least, I want to know you as well as you'll let me."

"Don't you mean as well as possible?" The question caught me off-guard. She sat back against the futon, still eyeing me. "Leo… if it were up to me, I wouldn't have to wait until you decided to perch outside my bedroom window. I'd be able to call you up and see you whenever I wanted to—or, at least, on a more regular schedule. The fact of the matter is… you _do_ have that responsibility. Never mind the fact that you're a ninja; you're an older brother. You're a devoted son. And you're an avid student. Do you really want to add more to your plate, Leonardo? Really?"

I thought about it for a while. Something about her tone of voice led me to believe that she was speaking in some sort of a thinly-veiled code. I couldn't quite figure it out with the aid of my reason, so I assumed that it was simply more of that dratted intuition. Despite Donatello's advice, I still find improvisation to be one of the most arduous exercises anyone could undertake.

I quietly murmured her name, causing her to tilt her head again as she listened. "Yes," I finally replied. "I think… I think that sometimes… something might come along—something very special—that can make a busy person realize that as occupied as he might be… he still isn't fulfilled. He's still got more to do, more to give…." Swallowing with a bit of difficulty, I gave her something of a shy glance. "That is, if that something special will accept what that busy person has to give."

Either we really did share some sort of connection on the intuitive level, or I unconsciously became a master interpreter of female codes. Her contemplative glance slowly became one of contentment, and she rested her hand on my forearm. "I think, if something were _truly_ special, then it'd already accept anything it's lucky enough to stumble across." As she spoke, her hand went down and found mine. She smiled as we clasped hands.

I leaned back on the futon, trying to keep my breathing under control. "I have to warn you," I told her, "I'm… this is the first time I've ever… that is, I don't quite know what I'm expected to-"

"I expect you to be happy," she answered. "I know it's a tall order when you've got the world on your shoulders, but do you think you can handle that?" I inhaled deeply, taking in the sweetly familiar fragrance of her room that would only become more familiar as time went on. I allowed the butterflies in my stomach to flutter around a bit, knowing that time will eventually calm them down. I tightened my grip around her small hand that, despite its size, will prove to have one of the strongest grips of anyone I've ever encountered.

Because she gripped me with love. She gripped me with understanding. She knew how out of my depth I felt, and she always managed to pull me back onto familiar ground. It wasn't going to be easy, but she'd help me get through. She'll watch the pieces of me break and help to rebuild them. Though I was terrified sitting there besides her that night, I smiled at her and leaned against her shoulder.

"Yes," I finally answered. "I think I can handle that better than I had imagined."


End file.
